Mrs. Cavendish, Hope, and Other Four-Letter Words
       

Mrs. Cavendish, let's continue, out of habit, to expect
from death a tiny leniency, and when it arrives
let's see if we can choose the transport of our choice.
Not an airplane, of course, but something that might
descend at a speed slow enough to keep up
from what can spoil the illusion of a good time.
Maybe even a vehicle that doesn't move.

But let's not count on it.
Hope, Mrs. Cavendish, is a four letter word.
Have a little fun, that's all. Wear your hair
in Medusa curls, and turn a few onlookers into stone.
Or like a caterpillar begin to undress, do a little
twirl and a shrug, and emerge as something else.
In the meantime, I'll stay around, an itch in my heart,
sleeping in a different room. Hope it. Hope it all.

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Copyright © 2015 Stephen Dunn All rights reserved
from The Keeper of Limits: The Mrs. Cavendish Poems
Sarabande Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission